


A Playlist for Michelle Jones

by outofcontextbucky



Series: Mixtapes from the Lost [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, MJ Needs a Hug, MJ is in love, Peter Parker fluff, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Short Story, This Is Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-20 11:38:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outofcontextbucky/pseuds/outofcontextbucky
Summary: Mj holds the cassette tape in her hands. Her first thought is to tease him for making a mixtape. Really, Peter? We’re in 2018. What are you, a hipster? Her second thought is that she can't do that, because he's gone.





	1. tracklist

_Mixtapes From the Lost_

_Volume 1: A Playlist for Mj_

_Tracklist:_

_1\. Baby I Love Your Way - Peter Frampton_

_2\. Every Breath You Take - The Police_

_3\. You Make My Dreams - Daryl Hall & John Oates_

_4\. I Melt With You - Modern English_

_5\. Rock With You - Michael Jackson_


	2. prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been days since Mj watched Peter ascend into the air on an spaceship with Iron Man and Dr. Strange after an alien attack on New York. She attempts to pick up the pieces of life after Peter, and in the process discovers a mixtape with her name on it and five songs that are from five different moments in time, five key moments in their relationship.

_prologue_

It had been 2 days since Peter went missing, and there was nothing Mj could do.

It wasn’t like he’d been taken hostage, or kidnapped in an abandoned warehouse, or held for ransom in a barn house in the woods like they did in the movies. No, Peter was taken aboard a donut-shaped spaceship from outer space, and he could be anywhere in the fucking galaxy.

What the hell could Mj do about that?

“May?” she called out from behind the apartment door–Peter’s apartment door, she remembered with a painful lurch in her stomach–and rapped on the door again, until the doorknob twitched.

Aunt May had been crying–that was apparent to Mj the second she opened the door for her, but there was no judgment where there usually would be. Mj had been crying, too.

“Hey,” May said softly, hugging the girl and letting her in, and although she smiled and put on a cheerful tone, the heartbreak in her voice was clear as day.

“No… no news?” Mj asked, even though she already know the answer, as she walked into the apartment. It was painful to. There was very little where she could look without thinking of Peter, which was the standard anyway, she was _always_ thinking about him. But now it was painful. Now it knocked the wind out of her lungs and made it difficult for her to navigate through life without being on the verge of tears.

“Nope,” May replied with a shrug and a chuckle like anything was funny, reaching back for the wine glass on the table. _Day drinking,_ Peter had told her once a few months ago, _that’s how I know she’s going through something_. “So, what brings you over?”

“I was just going to get some stuff I left over in Peter’s room,” Mj said. “My mom’s looking for them, I think I left them here.”

That was a fat lie. All Mj was really there to do was steal a few of Peter’s sweaters because the weird distinct smell he had had already worn off on the hoodie he left with her before–her stomach crumpled up again–he went missing. Mj fully intended on returning everything she was going to take if he came back.

His room was pretty much the same as the last time she was in it, except with the bed made, the trash taken out and all the laundry gone, and remembering that of course all the laundry was gone, there was no one using his clothes anymore, put Mj closer to the verge of tears. It wasn’t helping that everything inside room, the posters, the furniture, the same old deodorant smell was all too familiar, all too _Peter,_ and it mocked her, it taunted her. _He was here,_ the walls told her, _and now he’s all gone._

Mj would’ve already been crying if it weren’t for the small mixtape wedged between his laptop and a Science book, his handwriting on it, a list of songs on the side.

_A Playlist for Michelle Jones._

Her first thought is to tease him for making a mixtape. _Really, Peter? We’re in 2018. What are you, a hipster?_ Her second thought is that she can’t do that, she can’t do any of that, because he’s gone.

Mj slowly backs up into his bed, holding it in her hands, and the smell there, the deodorant-ish, brand new car smell is intoxicating, and it makes her heart hurt, her throat tight.

Mj takes a shaky breath and puts on the attached earphones.


	3. track one: Baby I Love Your Way - Peter Frampton

_track one: Baby I Love Your Way - Peter Frampton_

The school gym almost looked unrecognizable under the glow of the disco lights and the crowd of dancing kids in the center, and Mj was sure she would be having the worst time if it weren’t for two things: the vodka they snuck into the school and doused their drinks with, and the boy beside her.

Peter Parker, to be specific.

Her crush. Who asked her out to the school dance. No big deal. 

( _Yes_ big deal. She had spent an entire day dress shopping at the mall and another day watching makeup tutorials on YouTube. Both of them weren’t exactly the most fun for her.)

Mj would’ve hated it there, in all truth, and she would’ve found most of her entertainment in making fun of all the boys wearing tuxedos that didn’t fit and the girls who were taking this thing entirely too seriously, but it really was hard to be interested in anything else when Peter beside her, in a tuxedo that fit him _perfectly_ , thank you very much.

“I can’t believe you agreed to come with me,” he was smiling at her, a little shifty and awkward, Mj sipping their spiked contraband punch. “I thought you’d hate these things.”

“I did,” Mj shrugged.

“Oh.”

“But May told me you were practicing a lot, so I couldn’t–”

“What?” Peter groaned, and Mj just laughed. “May _told_ you?”

“Yeah, she told me you knocked on her door at 2 am and–”

“No,” he moaned, and the girl laughed some more, her eyes still on the red-faced boy beside her, “no, no, no, no, I can’t believe she told you. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Yeah, it is,” Mj agreed and Peter chuckled at her, staring right back at her under the blue and red and the purple of the disco lights.

It was very picturesque, theatrical, even, how the music came to a slow pause, they lighting changing into slow, dim, movements, as they stared at each other, and then began again with a slow strum of a guitar in a familiar tune. A slow song. Peter began to say something, his eyes meeting hers still, but he paused, and Mj couldn’t help but smile.

“You… you want to go dance with me?” Peter finally croaked out.

In all other situations, Mj would’ve said no in a damn heartbeat. But this was Peter fucking Parker asking her under the colorful lights, so she smiled.

“Would be a waste not to put all that dance practice to use.”

Peter got up and she took his hand, and they sauntered over to the dancefloor, where everyone else already began to sway to the soft tune. 

“ _Shadows grow so long before my eyes,_ ” the song crooned out, “ _and they’re moving across the page..._ ”

Mj put her hands on his shoulder and let him gently lay his on her waist, and their faces were so close like that it, it was all new and exhilarating, if she were going to be honest. And it didn’t help the butterflies in her stomach that Peter looked _insane_ in that suit.

“You look really pretty,” he said, his voice soft, as they began to dance to _Baby I Love Your Way._ Mj wanted to find the perfect snarky thing to say, but it was hard to. His hands over the fabric of her dress burned on her hips, and his face was so close, they could’ve kissed if they wanted to.

_God, hormones._

“You already said that,” she ended up saying with a croak.

“Well, it’s true.”

His eyes were all wide and gentle, guiding her as they danced the little two step to the slow rhythm of the old song.

“Thanks,” Mj resigned to saying, giving him a smile again. She smiled way too much when Peter was around, but she didn’t stop smiling–she couldn’t–while he held her by the waist and gently danced with her.

It was really so easy to forget that she was standing in a school gym, a hundred other kids on the dancefloor with them, when Peter was so close to her like that, near enough so she could smell his cologne and feel his body heat. It was pathetic, but it thrilled to be there, because she really liked him, and now they were dancing to a 70’s love song, and the sound wasn’t helping her heart from becoming the piece of mush it had become just because Peter was touching her. 

“No, I meant,” Peter said again, “I meant you look really pretty. In general. Like, everyday and stuff, not just… with the dress and everything.”

Her skin crawled. _Hormones. Again._ So many of them going crazy with Peter’s hand on her waist and his face close, and the crooning of the, _ooh, baby I love you way, everyday,_ in the background.

“Okay,” Mj’s nerves rendered her head empty, “you look really pretty too.”

“Thanks,” Peter chuckled, grinning at her like he knew what it was doing to her.

The song ended too soon, it seemed to Mj, and she didn’t want it to, because Peter’s hands left her hips when it did and they pulled away, her eyes still on him, still wishing she had another excuse to touch him, as the speakers blared out a fast song and Mj remembered they weren’t the only two in the world.

“Peter! Let’s dance!” 

Ned was already jumping around with Zach and Jason, chugging down another of their spiked drinks, and Peter glanced with a grin at him before he returned his eyes on Mj, and they laughed, and just like that, even if she wasn’t ready for it to be, the moment was over.

When Mj got home to the quiet of her house that night, she could still feel Peter's hands on her waist, and hear the song playing in her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, a few things  
> this isnt a continuation or prequel to my other mj/peter fic (how michelle jones finally got to kiss peter parker) this is an entirely different story  
> everything that happens in this story is after homecoming and before the first snap, and it starts out while peter's stuck in space  
> let me know if the premise of the story is a little... confusing or misleading! thanks for reading!


	4. track two: Every Breath You Take - The Police

_track two: Every Breath You Take - The Police_

The view was cloudy with fog, the window painted with streaks of water, trickling down against the glass as the bus drove through the rain into a different part of the city.

It was cold inside the bus, and Mj and Peter were arguing about who was going to wear his jacket.

“It’s a cliche, I don’t wanna do it,” she refused, even though she was looking at the soft, thick cotton fabric like she was a marathon finisher and it was a cold glass of water.

Peter sighed, his thigh against hers. “You’d rather freeze to death than borrow my jacket?”

“I’m not going to _die_.”

“Mj, you’re like, shivering right now.”

“I’m not.” She _was_ shivering.

Peter laughed, and Mj knew from the sound that it was a little bit out of exasperation. “Come on, just take it.”

She looked at the soft cloth again, her fingers ice cold, before she glanced up at Peter, who was looking at her with a little bit of frustration. “No,” Mj repeated, “and that’s weird, it’s not like we’re a thing. Or something.”

The very moment the words left her mouth, she regretted it, and the feeling in her stomach worsened by a lot when she saw Peter’s face. He had never seen puppy dog eyes look like they belonged on a human being before, but there he was.

“Oh,” he said, his voice and eyes and everything on his face hurt. “Sorry then.”

Mj wanted to take it back. Immediately. Just shove all the toothpaste back into the tube, but “yeah,” was all she could say, suddenly forgetting every physical discomfort she was feeling, her insides just as cold as her fingertips, and her ears, and every part of her body.

“Then it’s not weird if you just take the jacket,” Peter reasoned out after a few seconds, smiling a little. The kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

Mj finally did, shoving her arms into the sleeves, trying not to be as awkward about it as possible, zipping it up to her neck. They were quiet after she said thanks, the weird tension and discomfort in the air so palpable and present, Mj’s mind raced with anything she could do to make the situation any better. Damage control. So Peter wouldn’t let the small little _thing_ between them go, because Mj would be damned if he did. The thought didn’t make the feeling in her stomach any better.

“You want to listen to some music?” she croaked out awkwardly after a little while, glancing sideways to Peter’s profile, and when he glanced back at her, it didn’t escape her just how attractive he was.

“Okay,” he said, and Mj rummaged around her bag to find her earphones and plugged it into her phone.

She handed Peter one of the earbuds and he took it gingerly.

 _Every Breath You Take_ played as Mj pressed shuffle on all the songs in her library and a familiar beat came on, a familiar voice next, and she watched for his reaction and glanced at him discreetly.

“ _E_ _very breath you take, every move you make…_ ” 

“Hey, I know this song,” he muttered.

“Yeah?”

Peter looked at her as the first few lines were sang out, then gently answered. “Yeah.”

Mj felt her breath hitch as he did, her heart mellowing as they met eyes, quickly glancing back away after a few seconds. The wire on the earbuds fell loosely between them, like it strung them closer together, like it gave them a reason to be sitting in such close proximity, but Mj wanted a little more than that–she wanted to be close to him not by accident, but by intent. She moved her thigh a little bit closer to Peter’s as another verse flooded in through their earbuds, testing the waters, trying to see if he’d flinch back and retract his leg, but he didn’t, and it was like a knot loosened in her chest.

“ _Oh, can’t you see, you belong to me…_ "

Peter shifted in his seat, a little closer to Mj. She moved closer too.

“ _My poor heart aches, with every step you take…_ ”

The music was soothing the tension–the weird, unnecessary tension of denial–as they moved further through the Queens streets, the song progressing with slow thrums and soft crooning. Mj watched Peter from her peripherals, just blinking, breathing, watching his eyes dart around, his tongue absently gliding over his lips.

“Sorry,” she caught herself saying before she could string her next words together, and at the softness of her voice, Peter whipped his head around to face her. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean that.”

“The?”

“The thing I said,” Mj croaked. 

She should’ve written a draft first, even just a short index card of points to remember. Talking about how she felt with a boy she liked, completely intoxicated by the smell of his hoodie and the sound of an 80’s love song wasn’t anything the Academic Decathlon trained her for.

Peter didn’t speak, his eyes wide with the same kind of childish confusion Mj was feeling.

“I really… I really like you,” she said quietly.

Peter stared at her, and it felt like it was all in slow motion with _the Police’_ s soft singing in their earbuds, and the way he looked at her had a funny, tingling impact under her skin.

“Mj, you,” he was nervous, “you know I like you too.”  
“Are we like,” she stared back at him, at his beautiful fucking face, “are we a thing?”

“I thought we already were.”

It was awkward. So mind-bendingly awkward, but it was worse to never have the conversation, to never have to talk to Peter about it because otherwise, it meant he didn’t like her back. But he did. And the feeling was fucking phenomenal. The awkwardness was worth it, and she knew she’d do it a million more times if need be.

It was a warm, comfortable kind of quiet that took over the air between them after, as the song chorused through the next lines, the bus moving through the city, Mj slowly snaking her hands down to the boy’s next to her. She prodded out her pinky and Peter gently laced his fingers in hers without speaking, without prompting, without glancing at each other, like it was already second nature.

Mj watched him from her peripherals, her heart relaxed with a tiny bit of completely elated, just conscious of every small movement he made, watching–Mj giggled in her head when she realized it–every breath he took, the heat of his fingers and his palm against her own skin. He was rubbing her thumb against her hand.

She could get used to this.


End file.
